


Hometown Glory

by quiettoxic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Laughter During Sex, School Reunion, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 21:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettoxic/pseuds/quiettoxic
Summary: In which David’s high school reunion turns out much more interesting than he could have predicted, thanks to a woman he hasn’t seen in twelve years. His sixteen-year-old self would be so proud of him.





	Hometown Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to _if I have to produce my own NSFW content to see it for a pairing don’t think I won’t_! That's basically all.
> 
> This story features my sole actual nation OC for like two sentences, because the group is comprised of Commonwealth nations and there aren’t actually that many canon ones (especially female ones), and that's including Kenya. None of them are really important to the '''''plot''''', but I still wanted to mention them :P
> 
> So David is Australia, Angélique is Seychelles, Riley is New Zealand, Jamal is Cameroon, Kostas is Cyprus, Jyoti is India, Ajuma is Kenya, Matthew is of course Canada, and Maura is Belize. I imagine England was their teacher at some point, the poor man
> 
> Oh ya and it's named after an Adele song that came out in 2007, since they're the class of 2007. The school system is like... A mix of every school system I know anything about, but that isn't important either. You're here for the porn!

“Was this place always so small?”

David looks around the gym in wonder, trying to remember what it was like to have PE class here with 50 other teenagers. Huh, that must’ve been hell for the teacher. He never thought he’d sympathise with that guy.

“I think your head has just got bigger,” Riley is replying.

“Yeah, thanks, mate. Just because you haven’t grown since you were twelve...”

Riley shoves him, and David grins, shifting his gaze to the people milling around the gym. It’s been twelve years since he’s seen most of them, having gotten out of town to travel straight after he graduated and never come back before today, but some of them don’t seem to have changed at all.

“David!” Jamal Dikongue—knowing _his_ name is cheating, because David has seen him on TV—comes towards him and Riley, hands outstretched and expression as sunny as it always seems to have been in David’s memory. “Good to see you!”

David clasps the man’s hand, lets himself be pulled into a one-armed hug.

“Good to see you too. Who’d have thought such a famous guy would have the time to organise a high school reunion?”

“Ah, you’re a fan!” Jamal grins, dark eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Well, my professional career is pretty much over. Getting too old.”

He doesn’t look a day over 25, but the whole class of 2007 is edging towards 30, and that _would_ be too old for a professional football career.

“Anyway, let’s get you a sticker with your name on so everyone can pretend to have remembered it,” he continues while guiding David to a table at the edge of the gym.

“I’m sure the teachers would remember,” says the brown-haired man sitting down at it, raising an eyebrow. He hands David a sticker and a marker. “Here you go.”

David digs deep for his name, and remembers. “Thanks, Kostas.”

Kostas Tophi rolls his distinctive eyes at Jamal, whose grin only widens when there’s a woman’s voice from behind him.

“Kostas! I almost didn’t recognise you without that weird haircut!”

As he writes his name on his sticker, David laughs, because he remembers very clearly what she’s talking about. It was horrendous.

“Oh, sure,” Kostas says, even as he reaches for another sticker to give her, “you cut your own hair _one time_ and people still talk about it eleven years later.”

“It’s still the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean, what were you even trying to achieve with that one long strand?” the woman asks, and David nods, looking over at her.

He doesn’t immediately recognise her, but her brown eyes widen at the sight of him.

“David! You’ve changed!”

“Well, yeah, it’s been a while.” He glances down at her name sticker when she sticks it to her dress, and the name slots into place. “You’ve changed too, Angélique.”

She smiles, blinking up at him. As he remembers, Angélique Verlaque was a small, slight girl all throughout school, with her hair in perpetual pigtails for most of it, except when she was training or competing with the swim team that he’d wanted to be on so badly and that seemed so effortless for her. Now, she’s still small, but, whether she still swims or not, she definitely has the strong arms for it, and her smile is much more brilliant than he remembers.

“You look great. Your hair is different. It’s nice.” Because he’s pretty sure it used to be straight in those pigtails, and now there’s a massive amount of dark curls framing her freckled face.

“Thank you.” She tugs at a strand. “My fourteen-year-old self would be horrified that I stopped straightening it.”

“Well, my fourteen-year-old self would be horrified that I still don’t have a girlfriend, so, you know.”

Angélique’s smile turns appraising, and David grins, adding a wink that she chuckles at.

“Disgusting,” Riley comments, appearing out of nowhere next to David. “Hi, Angélique, how’s the mechanic business?”

“Hi Riley! It’s good, how’s the book coming along?”

David stares at Riley while they answer, feeling slightly betrayed. When Angélique is called away by someone, they grin at him.

“What the fuck, Riles,” David hisses. “You could have told me you still know her!”

“And why would I?”

“You shit, look at her! She’s beautiful!”

“I thought you didn’t want me to set you up anymore,” Riley replies, faking hurt.

“Not with guys that stalk me for six months, no!”

“Well, I can assure she’s only one of those things at most, Dave.”

He rolls his eyes, turning to the small podium set up along one wall when someone calls for attention—oh, Ajuma Kamaru, she used to tutor him—but only half-listens to her little speech, instead turning Angélique over in his mind. She’s very pretty, definitely his type, and seemed receptive to that tiny amount of barely-there flirting earlier. And did Riley say she’s a mechanic? Hot.

Ajuma is showing pictures now, oh god. Yep, there’s David at fifteen, braces and bowl cut and gangly limbs all there.

“Cleaned up well, Clarke!” Ajuma calls out, and Riley snorts at his pained face.

When that’s over, thank god, David wanders around nursing a plastic cup of lukewarm beer and talking to some former classmates. Ajuma is, as expected, a very busy woman, and still much smarter than him. He somehow gets Matthew Williams, whose existence he practically forgot about, to go talk to Riley about doing the photography for their upcoming book, and is roped into agreeing to go for coffee with Jyoti Misra someday—undoubtedly so the man can show him more pictures of his daughter.

He’s still freaking out over the fact that one of his classmates has a _child_—because he definitely does want to be a father himself, but _not yet_—when he runs into Angélique again. She’s talking to Maura Young, who doesn’t seem to have changed a bit except for having dyed her hair blonde. They both greet him happily, and Maura asks him how he’s doing before clasping his bicep briefly and stalking off to Matthew.

“She’s still a little strange,” Angélique tells David. He must look slightly bewildered. “I like her.”

“I’m sure she’s lovely,” he says, laughing. “Wasn’t she on the swim team too?”

“Yeah, definitely!” She smiles, biting her lip and staring at the other side of the gym wistfully. “God, the swim team. I read the current one actually won something last year. We never managed that, I think.”

David shakes his head, amused.

“Do you still swim?”

She smiles. “When I fall off my surfboard.”

David swears he’s going to strangle Riley for not re-introducing them. She’s beautiful and funny _and she fucking surfs_? His absolute traitor of a best friend _knows_ that is pretty much his dream woman.

“Well,” he says, “if you need any help staying on it... I actually give surfing lessons in my spare time.”

“No way, that’s so cool!” She steps slightly closer to him. “And what do you do in your non-spare time?”

“I’m—” He looks up, distracted, when some music starts playing that he recognises as one of those bands that used to be popular when they were in school while Angélique chuckles. “I’m a veterinarian. Well, assistant now, but probably not for much longer.”

“Oh, nice.” She frowns. “That’s—you were the person who released a bunch of frogs in the pool that one time, right?”

David makes a pained face, because that definitely wasn’t his finest moment, and she begins laughing exuberantly, gripping his upper arm as she doubles over.

“Three of them died,” she wheezes. “Maura and I made a memorial for them.”

He didn’t know _that_.

“Oh,” says Maura, appearing back at Angélique’s side, “is this about the frog memorial? I wonder if it’s still there.” And she’s off again.

Angélique snorts, then claps a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. David smiles down at her, pushing his hair back from his forehead with his free hand, the arm that she isn’t holding. She’s got a strong grip, and her fingers feel callused in an interesting way.

“I do wonder if it’s still there,” she eventually says, sounding thoughtful.

“There’s one way to find that out.” He isn’t really thinking about while he says it—a common occurrence—but it seems Angélique is, because her expression shifts from amused to scandalised back to amused and then turns undoubtedly mischievous.

“Guess there is.” She glances around the gym. Jyoti and Jamal are enthusiastically dancing to the terrible music and practically everyone else is focussed on that. David can’t help but watch as well, because really, at a certain point it just becomes unfair how great a person Jamal is. He also really hopes someone will record this and send it to Jyoti’s daughter, because he knows he’d find something like that hilarious.

Angélique tugs gently on his arm.

“Huh?”

“Guess the zoning out wasn’t due to the classes.” She smiles, shaking her head when he wants to apologise.

“Yeah, no, I’ve always done that.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She bites her lip, and David knows the way he watches that is very unsubtle, but, well, he isn’t a subtle man, and she doesn’t seem to mind. “Want to go check if the frog memorial is still there?”

He laughs. “I’d be honoured.”

They slowly inch towards the door, giggling as if they’re—well, as if they’re back in high school. Miraculously, Riley is the only one who notices them, and they just shoot David a wholly unimpressed look. He tries to mime that he’s upset with them for not mentioning Angélique because she’s amazing and Riley is a shit. They stick out their tongue.

Next to David, Angélique laughs.

“Some things don’t change, do they?”

“If you’re referring to Riley, then no, Riley is still the same terrible person they were when I first met them.” He pauses as they slip out the door of the gym, into the narrow corridor to the changing rooms, that smells exactly the same as it did when he went to school here. “For the record, I was six when we met.”

“I meant your friendship, but sure, Riley is terrible.”

For a second, David feels conflicted. He’s not sure if anyone besides him is allowed to call his best friend terrible.

“I mean,” Angélique continues, looking up at him with that mischievous smile, shaking her curls out of her face, “they never mentioned you once, even through all my complaining about how bad at surfing I am.”

He decides she gets to call Riley terrible for that.

“Absolutely terrible,” he agrees. “Though I’m sure your surfing is not that bad.”

“You should check sometime. I mean, you’re the expert.”

They’re standing in the middle of the corridor, much closer together than necessary. Angélique smells sweet, like coconuts, maybe. David wets his lips, leaning over to her.

“I should, yeah. I’m sure I can help.”

She hums, then grabs his hand and tugs him down the hall to the exit, and, _right_, the frog memorial.

The school is darkened, and unlike the gym, which seems smaller now, this looks larger, like David is twelve again and in his first year here. He would almost start worrying that he has forgotten his massive backpack if it weren’t for the general absence of the sounds of other people—except for Angélique’s light footsteps. She’s still tugging him along. Her hand has unfamiliar calluses but feels warm and comfortable in his own.

At a split in the hallway, she hesitates.

“This way.” David shifts his grip on her hand, loosely tangling their fingers together, and guides her to where he remembers the entrance to the pool adjoining the school’s building being. The scent of chlorine is unmistakeable, and he knows he’s going the right way. The pool is not exclusively in use by the school, but it’s quiet and empty all the same, faintly illuminated by light coming from the car park outside. The water is still, its reflections glittering on the walls and the ceiling.

“This is weird,” Angélique whispers. David grins.

“Well, it isn’t the first time I’ve been here after hours. I had to release those frogs at some point.”

She laughs. “Of course. Let’s go see if they’re still immortalised.”

The two of them walk along the length of the pool, Angélique finally letting his hand go. David wants nothing more than to throw something in, disturb the calmness of the water. He doesn’t think Angélique would appreciate it, though—her being the only thing handy to throw in at all. Plus, everyone carries their phones around nowadays, and most of those aren’t water resistant.

David’s is, because he knows himself better than Riley gives him credit for and recognises he’s likely to forget to take it out of his pocket before going swimming or surfing.

“Aw,” Angélique is saying, “it’s gone.”

She’s staring at an empty corner of the space, then looks back at David over her shoulder.

“Tragic,” he says, pulling his face into a serious expression. “I’m sure it was beautiful.”

“Of course not.” She grins, turning fully to him. “It was hideous.”

He snorts, and pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, watching Angélique as she walks back to the edge of the pool and kneels to run her fingers through the still water, her dress slipping on the ground around her legs.

“Wanna go swimming?” he asks—he just can’t resist.

“I’d love to, but I don’t really have an appropriate outfit on.” She looks back at him again, dark eyes glittering in the dancing blue reflections, mouth turned up at one corner in an almost challenging way.

“Do you want me to tell you to just take it off? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind.”

Biting her lip, she turns back to the water.

“Tempting.” She sits down, tugs her sandals off, and runs her toes through the water. “My hair takes ages to dry, though. But if you feel inclined, go ahead.”

He watches her for a moment longer, watches the muscles in her arms as she leans back, the graceful curve of her calf. Her dress slips up, exposing more of her thigh, which looks strong as well. When his mind starts conjuring images of how she could probably wrap those legs around his waist easily, David grimaces and sits down on her right, starting to undo his shoelaces.

“I’ll just follow your example, I reckon,” he tells her, and she smiles, inclining her head until her curls brush against his shoulder. He flicks one of them away teasingly.

Seconds later, he discovers that his jeans are just a tiny bit too tight to roll up to his knees, when he wants to dip his lower legs in the water like Angélique is doing, with her dress creeping ever further up her thighs. She has freckles there too. David trails his gaze from those up to her face when she laughs at him.

“Maybe those convertible trousers you used to wear would’ve been handy. Hm?” She pokes his thigh, and he groans at the memory. He thought he was so cool.

In protest, he stands up and yanks his trousers off, splashing water up when he flops back next to Angélique. She just hikes her dress further up in response, somehow managing to make that look challenging. Her toes brush against David’s ankle under the water.

“This feels so illicit,” she muses, now running her foot along his calf.

“Is it because I’m not wearing trousers?”

She turns to look up at him with one eye.

“That’s part of it.”

“Hm, and what’s the rest of it?”

Now, she pokes him with his shoulder, then leaves it leaning against his arm. Her skin is warm through his sleeve. David hooks his leg around hers, tugging that closer to him as well, and cautiously presses his fingers to her thigh, running them down to her knee and then back up to the hem of her dress, pushing it up the tiniest bit. When she makes a small contented noise, he pushes it up a little more.

“Well,” she says, and her melodious voice has taken on a breathy quality, “I guess that’s part of it, too.”

“What, this?” He pushes his fingers further up over soft skin. Lets his hand splay high on her thigh while her fingers tickle up the inside of his forearm, then further upwards until she gives it a gentle tug.

Angélique has turned her face up to him, and when he looks her way, their noses brush together. When she laughs, David just has to lean forward and kiss her, slower than is probably expected in this weird setting, but she melts into it easily, her lips soft yet confident against his. He slides his free hand into her hair, then twists awkwardly.

So awkwardly that he slips off the edge of the pool and into the water.

“_Fuck_!” he snaps, as he parts from Angélique, has to catch himself on anything he can grab, and ends up dragging her down with him until his entire lower body is in the water and his face is planted in her stomach, which is heaving with laughter.

Pushing himself up and out of the pool, he grumbles.

“I’m _wet_, Angélique.”

“Oh, god, I bet you are,” she wheezes. And, in a calmer voice, when he has crawled over her and she’s put a hand on his hip, “Hm, yeah, very wet.”

She’s lying on the floor, her curls spread out around her head like a halo and her face a picture of affected innocence while her hand slides around his hip, up to where it has no qualms about gripping his arse firmly.

“Speaking of _illicit_,” he mumbles.

“Oh, like we would be the first ones.”

David gasps, pretending to be shocked, and starts to joke about what the swim team got up to, but he never gets that far before she’s pulling herself up using his arse and his shoulder and kissing him again. It doesn’t last long, though, because the position he’s in is uncomfortable as fuck—his knees are digging into the edge of the pool and the floor is far too hard to lean on. Plus, he’s dripping all over Angélique’s nice blue dress.

“You’re getting wet,” he says, eloquently.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Well, aren’t you?” he has to ask while he struggles to stand up without falling back into the pool.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She props herself up, planting her elbows on the tiles, and tilts her head back to look up at him, curls tumbling down like a waterfall and her neck a graceful arc. Her dress is now rucked up so far that he can see an edge of red fabric at the top of her thigh.

Sadly, the dress slips back down when she accepts his outstretched hand to get back up.

Grinning, Angélique hooks a small finger in the edge of his boxers and snaps the fabric against his skin with a wet slap. David narrows his eyes at her, but she just does it again. He shivers.

“Are you cold?” There’s definitely a teasing note to her voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

In response to that, she bites her lip, shakes her hair out of her face, and cautiously runs those fingers along his waistband, then underneath it, scorching against his cold skin. He smiles down at her, and she seems bolstered, wriggling her hands into his boxers until she’s gripping his arse.

“Hm, you do feel cold,” she proclaims.

David steps closer to her, though not so close that he presses his wet self against her dress. He trails a line up her arm.

“How do you propose I warm up?”

She’s still chewing on her lip, so he runs his thumb across the lower one, swallowing hard when her mouth opens a little, a puff of hot breath on his skin.

“Hey, Angélique,” he says when she doesn’t say anything, “don’t—I mean, we could always just go back to the gym. Well, I’d probably have to take these wet things off, but—no, god damn it, that’s not what I meant—”

She laughs, then, bottom lip catching on his thumb.

“Guess you don’t have the monopoly on zoning out at inopportune moments. We don’t have to go back to the gym.” Her gaze flicks down. “But you could still take your underwear off. That seems uncomfortable.”

“Sure?” he asks. “I mean, there’s illicit and then there’s illicit.”

She squeezes his arse in response.

“_Quite_ sure.” Her eyes glimmer mischievously. “My sixteen-year-old self would be proud.”

He snorts, because _yeah_, sixteen-year-old, gangly David absolutely did have fantasies much like this as well, the terrible creature.

“Well, I guess that should be a goal in life.” He glances at the glass door of the swimming pool over his shoulder. That might be a bit much. Angélique follows his gaze, tilts her head, and looks speculatively over at the changing stalls lining the far side of the pool.

David grins, and then they’re both dashing over there, falling against the opposite door with her arms wrapped around his neck, and now he’s definitely getting her dress wet. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, reaching up to kiss him messily. She makes little noises all the while, and David relishes the chance to experiment with his hands on every part of her body he can reach, grinning against her lips when she gasps and hitches her leg up as he touches her thigh.

Licking his lips, he pulls back to look down at her dark gaze. He shifts his hand to the hollow of her knee, at which her eyes widen.

“What are you planning?”

“I’m not much of a planner,” he replies, but he thinks he understands what she’s getting at, and is pretty sure his suspicions are confirmed when she wraps her leg around his thigh, pulling them flush together. The heat she seems to give off is enough to make his beginning erection twitch, even trapped behind cold, wet fabric as it is.

“Neither am I, really.” She rests her elbows on his shoulders and leans on them as if testing whether he can hold her weight. There is no doubt in his mind that he can, so he grips her leg more firmly with one hand, gleefully grabs her arse with the other, and lifts her.

She must’ve been expecting it, because she helps by supporting herself on her elbows, and wrapping her strong legs around his wet hips, but she still lets out the tiniest shriek, which makes him laugh even as he stumbles until she’s pressed against the door of the stall, pushing it close. The opposite door swings open again, but the bench between them slams down all the same, keeping this one in place.

“What now?” Angélique asks, slightly out of breath.

“No idea.” David considers their situation.

She grins widely. Tightens her legs, cards her fingers through the hair at the top of his head. Her legs are very warm on his cold skin, and she chuckles into his mouth when he kisses her again. He’s holding her arse with both hands now, fingers digging into soft skin and thin fabric. When he dips the fingers of one hand underneath the fabric, Angélique arches her back against the door of the stall, pushing them together more tightly.

So with one hand underneath her underwear, the edge of the fabric catching on the ring on his index finger, David mouths along her neck, pushing his nose into her hair and dragging his lips over her jaw. Her grip on his own neck is firm, and she’s using it as leverage to rock herself, pushing down against him with her entire upper body, muscles tightening under his fingers.

She giggles when he pushes his nose underneath her ear, squirming. David grins, does it again.

“Stop it!” she laughs, tightening her legs. “That tickles—ah, David!”

He laughs as well, into the skin of a shaking shoulder where the sleeve of her dress has slipped down, and his hands slip on her legs. In response, she lets go of his neck with one hand and reaches back to grab the top of the stall’s door. David can see the muscles in her arm working under the freckled skin, which is, honestly, really hot. This whole affair is also _very_ impractical.

“This was better in theory,” he says. Angélique snorts a laugh.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, and all that.”

“Well, let’s try something else.”

“Surprise me—oh!”

He hoists her up again, pulling her away from the door, which she lets go of, and he swings her around before dropping to one knee to put her down on the bench. Through the opposite, still open, door, they can see all the way to the other entrance to the pool, but it’s dark outside and David isn’t concerned about that, so he has no qualms about putting his other knee down as well so he’s kneeling between Angélique’s legs.

She, in turn, is grinning brightly down at him, with her dress pooled around her hips and one hand still on his neck.

“I’m not all that surprised yet,” she says, sounding too breathy and smiling to be serious, and her free hand is pushing her dress up, teasing over her own knickers.

“It’s a work in progress,” he assures her, brushing his hair back before running his hands up her legs until they’re on her underwear again, almost touching her own hand when she moves it up to push it underneath the fabric and move it there. David swallows, licking his lips as he feels his cock perk up again in his wet boxers. He curls his fingers, hooking them over the lacy sides. In response, Angélique lifts her hips slightly.

“I don’t think now’s the time to take it slow, is it?” She sounds mostly amused. Excited, maybe. It’s a good sound.

“You’re probably right,” David agrees, and so he slides her underwear down her hips without hesitation.

Of course, the fabric almost immediately gets stuck on her spread thighs and they both laugh sheepishly when they realise it won’t come off, but Angélique fixes it by manoeuvring one leg up and out of it, and then sprawling more on the narrow bench. She is still, almost absently, touching herself—until David decides that won’t fucking do when he’s _right here_, and grasps her wrist to pull her away. He replaces her fingers with his mouth in the same movement.

She gasps and swears above him, instantly gripping his hair.

David grins against her, pushing his nose into the coarse hair above her clit—also vaguely smelling of coconut underneath the scent of skin and arousal—and rubbing his lips vaguely around her for a while.

Luckily, she’s not shy about pushing down on his head until he properly closes his lips around her clit and suckles at it for a bit before using his tongue to flick the nub, holding her hips down when she shifts them jerkily, gasping again. She’s responsive as anything under his touch, her legs twitching every time he tries something new and her fingers restless in his hair, even gripping his ears at one point.

“David—fuck, you better have a condom somewhere,” she’s saying, and then makes a plaintive noise when he pulls back to look up at her, the words filtering through slowly.

“What if I don’t?”

She groans. “Then we’ll have to figure out something else, and since it’ll probably involve my mouth, you better not have any diseases, Clarke.” A pause, then she gestures vaguely down at herself. “Obviously, I don’t, I would...”

“Very tempted to say I don’t have condoms now,” he mumbles, leaning back forward and licking down between her folds, rendering her speechless for a long moment. She tastes sweet in a muffled way, and doesn’t seem terribly wet by herself, but that’s no problem. He can fix that—it’s not as if she isn’t obviously into it.

“Come _on_, arsehole,” she moans eventually. “Did you go to this reunion thinking you’d have sex or not? I didn’t, which—_ah_—was evidently an oversight, and Riley ought to ha-_ave_ warned me.”

“I know, right?” He kisses the inside of her thigh, her belly, before letting her dress fall down over it again and using her legs as leverage to push himself to his feet. That tiled floor is _not_ forgiving on the knees, and he’s glad he’s the one kneeling, not her, because her dress falls above the knee, and the marks would show.

Honestly, the thought isn’t that bad from his perspective—quite the opposite—, but he snaps out of it when Angélique lightly slaps his thigh. Her warm hand lingers there, her fingers wriggling underneath the fabric.

His dick perks a little more at how close it is to her full lips now that he’s standing.

“Does this mean condoms or are you just interrupting yourself for a blowjob, because don’t think it’s that easy,” Angélique says, sounding amused still, and a little breathless. He’s been with enough people who found him zoning out even in the middle of sex a turnoff, so he’s glad she seems to be taking it in stride.

“Condoms. It means condoms.”

Trying to open the door doesn’t work, of course, since Angélique is sitting on the bench blocking it, but before she can get up, David dashes out on the other side of the stall, crosses through the one next to it, and quickly grabs his jeans, which—

“Ha, see!” he says triumphantly to no one in particular as he pulls a condom out of the watch pocket, throwing his trousers down again.

“Come show me!” Angélique calls, and David hurries back, deciding not to mention how he almost slips on the wet floor and possibly could have broken his cock in the fall. Or his leg, or something.

“See?” he repeats once he’s back. “No blowjobs necessary. Not that I’d say no to one, of course.”

Angélique laughs and takes the condom from him, inspecting it briefly before ripping the packet open.

“Well...” She sits forward a little, tugging at David’s boxers until he moves as well, nodding at her questioning look up at him. She bites her lower lip and reaches into his underwear, pulling his cock out carefully over the elastic band. It’s not nearly hard, because it was very cold and wet in there and that’s a detriment no matter how fucking hot Angélique is, but she doesn’t seem flummoxed in the slightest.

David’s breath hitches when she folds those clever fingers with their calluses around his cock to coax it to full hardness, even while he wiggles his underwear down so the wet fabric falls heavily to the ground. Angélique’s own knickers are still hanging around her thigh.

It unsurprisingly doesn’t take much before he’s hard for real, and Angélique is pulling the condom out of the package. She turns it a few times, smiles up at him and grasps him again to roll it on. David groans, then curses and reflexively grabs her hair when she does immediately follow the latex with her mouth, folding those full lips around the head of his cock and sucking gently.

Silently, he congratulates himself on not going for the lubed condoms. That stuff tastes worse than rubber.

“Angélique,” he gasps, and she looks up at him through a strand of curly hair that has fallen into her face, eyes glittering.

“Since you asked so nicely.” She winks, then takes him back in, gently cupping his balls with one and grabbing his cold arse with the other warm hand.

“Mm—_fuck_—sounds plausible.”

At that, she lightly smacks his arse, her lips curving into a smile around his cock. David pushes her hair out of her face so he can watch her for a while, trying to control his breathing while she sucks him down with hollowing cheeks, her tongue pressed flat against the underside of his erection. Her hands are everywhere at once, sometimes even flying down to touch herself for a split second, then pushing the sides of his shirt out of the way when she wants to lick the base of his cock or try to take him as deep as she can.

“_Angélique_, do you want me to fuck you or not?” he gasps when she takes hold of the base of his cock to lick a long, hard stripe up the underside and suck at the head.

“Already close?” she asks, pulling away to raise an eyebrow up at him. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are slick and _god_ they might have to fucking go back to the gym after this and anyone with eyes will know what went on. David can’t say he gives a fuck at the moment. He could watch her all evening.

“By no means,” he lies, “but like you said, now’s not the time to go slow, yeah?”

An acquiescing nod. “True.”

“In that case.” He squats deep enough to kiss her, leaning one hand on the bench, and uses the other to push her dress out of the way to blindly rub over her clit. She gasps into his mouth. Grips his wrist, bucking her hips.

The moan that escapes her when he kneels fully and pulls her legs around himself to assist his fingers with his mouth echoes through the pool, which in turn makes her gasp, legs twitching.

“Oh, _fuck_, David, this is such a bad idea,” she laughs, breathless. “Anyone could—_oh_!”

“I know, right?” he says, half muffled because how fast she is in pushing him back down.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, but he just hums against her, moving his whole face to rub into her while holding her outer lips apart with one hand, trying belatedly not to touch the sensitive skin of her labia with his stubble. He imagines that hurts. God knows it hurts on his dick.

Palming his erection with one hand, David eventually pushes one finger around her for a while, gathering the wetness there, then carefully inside her, enjoying how that makes her swear again, partly because the Angélique he knew in school was such a nice, proper girl and he couldn’t have imagined her cursing. Let alone doing anything else that’s going on here, of course.

Now, she grabs his wrist and pulls him out of her, gets his hand up between both of her own. Unhesitatingly and unwaveringly, never breaking eye contact with him, she pushes two of his fingers into her mouth, nipping them before running her tongue over them, breathing hard through her nose. The look on her face is very determined and David can’t help but watch breathlessly with admiration, still touching his cock.

She laves his other fingers as well, then wordlessly lets go of his slick hand as she spreads her legs more.

Honestly, twelve years ago—hell, even a couple of years ago—David thinks he could have come just from the sight of that and his own hand barely touching himself, but luckily, he’s got a little more control than that by now.

He _does_ have to take a very deep, steadying breath before he runs his wet fingers down through her folds and pushes one easily back into her. Angélique looks very pleased with herself.

Soon, while he makes sure to keep licking her across clit or down her labia, David pushes another finger into her, watching them disappear up to the rings he’s got on the middle finger on this hand, dark pink folds enveloping them. Angélique’s even got freckles on her outer lips, where the hair seems recently shaven and prickles his face and hand.

He tries to crook his fingers just _so_, still convinced that one day he’ll find a woman’s G-spot, but today doesn’t seem to be that day, because Angélique just impatiently wriggles her hips until he adds his ring finger as well, swiping his thumb across her clit.

“There you go,” he says, and she gasps a laugh that echoes too, and then she pulls the most helpless face at him, making them both giggle until David heaves himself up to kiss her, hard. She holds his face with both hands, tucking her pinkie fingers around his jaw.

Carefully, he pulls his fingers out of her. Now, there’s the question of how the hell they’re going to do _this_.

“Let’s... David, let’s find a bed next time,” Angélique says almost absently.

David grins widely at the chance of a next time even as his mind cycles through possibilities, each one more unlikely than the last.

“What is going on in that head of yours now?”

“I’m stuck on how...”

She’s standing up, smiling fondly, and turns him around, pushing him down on the bench instead. She kneels across his legs, and—

“On second thought, this might not be a great idea at all.”

No, that’s definitely not going to work out, because the bench is far too narrow and she’s going to fall off if they even manage to get his cock anywhere near her, but David laughs, grips her legs tight, and stands up.

“Oh my god!” Angélique says, giggling and taking hold of his shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“Let’s find out, yeah?” He pushes her up against the door like before, and they both catch their breath for a few seconds. The air between them is hot and damp, their heaving breaths mingling in the small space.

After a moment, Angélique carefully reaches down between them, frowning in concentration. David shifts her weight until she can guide him into her in a surprisingly easy slide, both sighing. She’s scorching around David’s cock, pulsing with heat.

“Hold on,” he mumbles. She grasps his shoulders even harder when he begins to move her and his own hips, trying to find a good angle, the right place to put his hands. It doesn’t take nearly as much effort as he thought it would.

Angélique is gasping rhythmically, one hand again flying up to hold on to the top of the door, and David wishes she weren’t still wearing that dress so he could touch her breasts, bury his face between them—they’re _right there_ in fucking front of him, but obscured by blue fabric and the sticker bearing her name. _Bed_, next time, he thinks again, grinning.

“I didn’t—” Angélique starts, trying to catch her breath— “I didn’t think this worked outside of porn.”

David chuckles. Kisses her neck, trying to move just his hips and not her. Those black curls are everywhere, and he can’t touch those _either_. This might _work_, and it feels so fucking good, but that doesn’t mean it necessarily a success.

“Next time,” he says, “I’m gonna—_fuck_—make sure you’re not wearing goddamn anything.”

She clenches around him, and he grins. Good. He never does know when to shut up; might as well use it to his advantage.

“Yeah? What else?” she moans, now grabbing the door with both hands. He wonders if she can come without being touched. He’s definitely been with people who could, though he’s never managed himself. This might not be the best time to experiment with that, either.

“We’ll find a bed, _yeah_, and I’m going to ta-ake so much time...” His fingers clench helplessly on her legs; he’s getting close. “So much time you won’t even know if you can come again when I finally get to fuck you, _Angélique_.”

Her keening moan echoes obscenely through the empty pool, and David swears he can hear the stall door creak, but he can’t be arsed to care—it wouldn’t even be the first time he destroyed school property. Angélique reaches down, but barely touches herself before she starts hanging on to the door again, legs tightening around his hips while she throws her head back. Sweat is glistening in the hollow of her throat.

“You’re—_fuck_, Angélique, you’re beautiful,” he gasps. When he says her name, she moans again, and even if someone did come in now, David couldn’t have stopped himself from coming undone, giving in to the temptation to lick her throat and trying his best not to lose his grip on her legs _or_ his own while he shudders through his orgasm.

Angélique is grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling at it, tilting his head back to kiss him and swallow his groans.

She lets go of the door with her other hand as well and rests both elbows on his shoulders to keep herself moving, her eyes wild and determined. David can only try to keep upright, fingers digging into her thighs. They’re slippery with sweat, or maybe that’s his own hands.

“God damn it,” she’s gasping, slamming herself down on his cock, which miraculously hasn’t slipped out yet but is quickly becoming overstimulated. “I can’t—_please_.”

“Please?”

“I need you to touch me, I can’t, I—”

In a movement that’s not nearly as smooth as he hoped it would be and pulls him out of her far too abruptly—making them both wince—David has her back on the bench. She’s touching herself before he even has a chance to, pushing own fingers over her clit as she sprawls as much as possible.

“I thought you said _me_.”

“Well, _hurry_,” she replies, so he does, kneeling on his sore knees and pushing her fingers away.

He’s barely touched his mouth to her, barely pushed two fingers into her, before she’s coming on another beautiful keening moan, tightening around his fingers. _Next time_, he thinks again. Next time, he’ll make her come first, and that’ll be his cock inside her.

She tilts her head back against the wooden wall and grabs his hair again, holding him to her until she is just gasping wordlessly, then pulls him away just as abruptly. He just grins up at her, not ashamed to admit that he does love being manhandled by a woman who knows what she wants.

Angélique stares down at him for a long moment, her pupils huge in the low, bluish light and her hair wild. David isn’t even going to imagine what his own hair must look like right now. It’s probably something he could only have dreamt of at sixteen, and that’s apart from the circumstances.

Slowly, and wincing at his—definitely bruised—knees, he reaches up, leaning his hands on Angélique’s thighs, to kiss her slow and deep, with the muffled taste of her arousal on his lips and tongue. It’s a slick affair, their tongues languidly sliding together.

“I don’t think we can go back now,” she mumbles, half into his mouth, and David laughs helplessly, pulling back and swiping her hair out of her warm face. He hadn’t noticed she was wearing makeup, but she must have been, because something has smudged black around her eyes, framing the brown irises strikingly.

“Hmm, think of how jealous they would be.”

A breathy laugh. “I’m not sure if that’s an argument for or against, David.”

He reaches up again, meaning to wipe her eyes clean, but his fingers are a bit sticky, so he decides against it just in time.

“I’m not sure either.”

After a silent moment, he stands up straight, wincing again, takes off the condom and ties it closed.

“Uh.” He looks at it a little forlornly, and Angélique opens her eyes to laugh at him.

“Hold on.” When she stands up and her dress falls down, she looks almost as if nothing has happened. Well, at least relatively more than David, but that really isn’t saying much. “You could put that back in the packet, I guess? I’ll go get your trousers.”

She loops through the other stall—slightly unnecessarily now that no one is blocking the bench, but it does feel better not being exposed to the whole pool—and returns with his jeans.

“Thanks.”

She smiles and watches, biting her lip, while he manoeuvres his sweaty legs into the denim, puts the condom wrapper-with-condom into the watch pocket again. He hopes he remembers to take it out before he does the laundry. The chance is low.

“If we can’t go back, where do we go?” he asks her.

“Well, you did say something about a bed.” She hunches her shoulders, tucks her hair behind her ear rather uselessly, since it springs free right after. “Not—ah, maybe we could try that out in the morning, actually. If you want to.”

And, after a pause during which David is too busy imagining her in his bed to reply to her, “I make very good breakfasts.”

He blinks. “After all that, can we plot to kill Riley for not re-introducing us?”

She smiles brilliantly, all traces of hesitancy disappearing from her freckled face, and shakes her hair out.

“That’s my favourite morning pastime,” she jokes.

“Ace.” Because he can’t help himself, David leans over to kiss her one more time before he picks up his wet underwear, which apparently Angélique’s knickers have fallen right on top of at some point, so now those are wet as well.

“We could possibly have thought this through better,” she says.

“I don’t think I personally could’ve,” David mumbles. He sort of wipes his hands on the underwear, then finds a drain to wring the fabric out over and stuffs it into his pocket for the time being. “Just... Don’t bend over, I guess?”

Angélique laughs, winks, and bows very straight at the waist to pick up her sandals and pull them on. David groans, but pulls his trainers back on as well.

“Is that some underwear in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Angélique asks, poking his hip. He snorts.

“I wish.”

At the door, she stops him and stands on her tiptoes to run her hands through his hair, presumably trying to flatten it back into some semblance of what it looked like before.

“Hey, I’m not going back,” he reminds her, kissing the inside of her wrist in a rather unexpectedly tender move that makes her blush, darkening her warm brown skin.

“My bag is in the wardrobe. There might be people there. _Ajuma_ might be there.” She frowns. “I think I just reverted back to high school. Remember when she was class president?”

“I got so many detentions because of her,” David replies cheerfully. “Well, come on, then. With any luck, it’ll just be Riley, and we can tell them what an awful and terrible person they are.”

He takes her hand, and they walk, slightly giggly, to the school entrance where the wardrobe is. While she searches for her bag, David wanders distractedly off to where his locker used to be to check if the rude word he carved into it sixteen years ago is still there, but it seems the whole area has been renewed.

“David?” Angélique calls. He walks back, his gait a little awkward. These jeans chafe, and his dick is sensitive.

“I guess it’s really been a pretty long time since school, nah?”

Angélique just smiles, lifts her hair over the collar of the jacket she’s put on, and tugs him down to kiss him. He smoothes his hands down her hips, his own involuntarily bucking as the smooth lines remind him of her current lack of underwear.

“Give you a lift?” he asks, between pushing her against the lockers and finally burying a hand in her soft hair again, slotting one leg between hers.

“Lift—yeah. Mm.” She pulls back, catching her breath and pushing at his chest when he tries to follow. The sticker crinkles. He’s glad he didn’t lose that. “Didn’t you and Riley get here together?”

He honestly has to think for a long second, making her giggle.

“No, no, we didn’t. We just arrived at the same time. They do actually have a working car, you know.”

“I’m _aware_, and they can expect extra charge next time it needs a check-up.”

“Good.” He kisses her. “What about you?”

“Me?” She grins mischievously. “I biked here. I _could_ bike back, of course. I’d have to make sure to hold my dress down very well so it doesn’t fly up—”

“God, Angélique, don’t do that to me,” he groans, pushing his leg up between hers until she gasps through her snickering.

“Maybe next time. Will my bike fit in your car?”

“It’s a Jeep, so it fucking better.”

“Nice,” she says, face lighting up. “Does it have a—”

“Well,” someone interrupts, and David springs back so abruptly he almost trips over his own feet, “this does explain a lot.”

It’s Jamal, thank _god_. The man is grinning widely while Angélique looks both embarrassed as well as extremely amused, smoothing her dress down and clearing her throat.

“I was wondering where you two’d run off to.”

“Well, here we are,” Angélique says, barely containing her laughter.

“We were... We were just going,” David adds.

Jamal throws a significant glance at the still-wet underside of his shirt and the absolute mess that his hair must still be despite Angélique’s best efforts, then over at Angélique’s smudged eye makeup and the strand of hair sticking to her neck.

“That seems like a good idea, all things considered.” He pushes his glasses up. “Well, I’m very glad you had a good time at the reunion.”

Someone—_Riley_, definitely Riley—calls Jamal’s name from somewhere beyond the wardrobe.

“_Good time_,” Angélique repeats breathlessly, tugging on David’s hand until he steps back into her space. “Thanks, Jamal.”

He shakes his head, smiling helplessly, and then Riley is there as well, taking one look at Jamal and opening their mouth, before spotting David and Angélique.

“_Seriously_?” They throw their hands up, wide sleeves flapping. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore, Dave.”

“I was there too,” Angélique puts in, and David hides his grin in her hair, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I regret everything. Jamal, Maura is looking for you. Something about dance lessons.”

And off they go, with Riley throwing one last exasperated look at David over their shoulder.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just introduced me to her, you idiot!” David calls after them. Then, “About that lift...”

Angélique looks up at him with a soft smile.

“Yes. Let’s go. We’ve got revenge to plan.”

He grins and leads her outside. Maybe there is something to be said for high school, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [Also on Tumblr](https://quiettoxic.tumblr.com/post/187129231008/hello-and-welcome-to-if-i-have-to-produce-my-own)


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